“Well, I can’t help that, can I?”
“How am I to get home, if you go away in the Banner?”
“That’s your lookout.”
“Now, what have I done to you, that you should treat me in this way?”
“You have been meddling with our business—that’s what you have done,” answered Pierre, fiercely. “You ought to have stayed in Bellville, while you were there, and attended to your own concerns. We don’t care whether or not you ever get back.”
Wilson, with an air of utter dejection, seated himself on the jetty, while Pierre, who took a savage delight in tormenting the boy, thrust his hands into his pockets and began pacing back and forth on the beach. The crew of the yacht had caused the smugglers considerable anxiety, and they had shown so much courage and perseverance in their pursuit of the Stella, that they had raised the ire of every one of her company, and Pierre was glad of this opportunity to obtain some slight satisfaction; but had he known all that was passing in the boy’s mind, he would have found that he had even more spirit and determination to deal with than he imagined. Wilson was only playing a part. He was firm in his resolution to recover the yacht, but knowing that he could not cope with Pierre openly, he resorted to strategy. By pretending to be completely cowed by the smuggler’s fierce words and manner, he had thrown the latter off his guard; and when he walked past him and took his seat on the jetty, Pierre did not raise any objections. By this manœuvre, Wilson gained a position between the man and the nearest boat, which happened to be the one with the sail hoisted. That was the first step accomplished. The next was to draw Pierre’s attention to something, if it were only for a moment, until he could run to the boat, cast off the painter, and fill away for the yacht. He was not long in hitting upon a plan.
“I know what I shall do,” said he, at length. “I’ll stay here until Tomlinson comes, and ask him if he won’t take me aboard the Banner.”
“I can tell you now that he won’t do it,” replied Pierre.
“I don’t care; I’ll ask him, any way. If I can only go to Havana, that’s all I want. I shall be able to find some vessel there bound for the States. He’s coming now.”
Pierre paused in his walk and looked toward the plantation house, but could see nothing. He listened, but all he heard was the roar of the surf on the beach.